


Make Of It What You Will

by mydeira



Series: Something Maybe 'Verse [4]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-09
Updated: 2011-07-09
Packaged: 2017-10-21 04:57:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/221177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydeira/pseuds/mydeira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Close calls and near certain death always had a way of mucking things up.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Make Of It What You Will

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers: through “Cyberwoman”
> 
> Disclaimer: Sadly, I am neither RTD nor the BBC. This is purely for the exorcism of the big bad bunny that landed on my head.
> 
> A/N: Follows What It Is We’ve Done and the episode “Cyberwoman.” This is the fourth installment in the Something Maybe ‘Verse. Thank you to sadbhyl for her encouragement and keen eye.

Gwen had expected things to be awkward between her and Owen when she returned from Italy. But they weren’t. it was like nothing had ever happened. No, that wasn’t right either. Things were better. Owen had stopped treating her like the new kid on the block and started treating her like one of the team. Not that there was a huge difference between the two, but he’d stopped calling her “newbie” and actually used her name the majority of time.

If it hadn’t been for the mess with Ianto and what used to be his girlfriend, Gwen was certain that she and Owen would have continued with the coworker/almost-but-not-quite mates thing they had going. Close calls and near certain death always had a way of mucking things up.

The biggest mistake had been getting into the body storage cabinet with him, though there’d been little choice in the matter. Shut in there with him, on top of him, Gwen realized that it hadn’t been sleep deprivation and common experience that had driven her to Owen that night. She didn’t exactly fancy him, but… Then he’d gone and kissed her. Small, cramped space and death knocking about outside, of course she kissed him back. And, God, it was better than she remembered. She didn’t know whether she was grateful that Rhys had called when he did or not. She knew she should be grateful.

She was just on her way out that night when Owen caught up to her.

“Don’t suppose I could offer you a lift?”

The way things had been going this evening, bad idea. “Yeah, that’d be great, thanks,” she replied, completely ignoring her better judgment. “I’m not sure as I’d trust my luck with the cabs tonight.”

“Was thinking of stopping off for a pint, unless you’d rather I dropped you first?” There was something almost vulnerable about Owen right now, like he couldn’t be bothered to keep up the façade that it was just another day at Torchwood.

Gwen didn’t even have to think. “If there was ever a night for a drink, this is certainly it.” And she realized she wasn’t all that eager to go home. “Though, I think I might need something stronger than a pint tonight.”

He smirked. “Good point.”

They ended up at a pub a few blocks from the one the team had stopped at earlier that day; it was a touch more upscale but not uncomfortably so.

“What gets me,” Owen said as they settled into a booth, “is that Ianto managed to get away with it for as long as he did. Right under Jack’s nose the entire time, and he had no idea.”

“I don’t know, seems to me that’s the stuff that’s easiest to miss.” She sipped her whiskey sour. “Especially when you trust people.”

“Yeah, well, I think trust is going to be in very short supply for awhile.” He shook his head. “A bloody cyber conversion unit… Christ, you don’t do that!”

“He loved her,” Gwen said quietly.

Owen tossed back his drink and slammed the empty glass on the table. “No, sweetheart, that’s not love. Ianto’s a selfish git who couldn’t let go.” The sudden anger took her by surprise. “You don’t do that to someone you care about.”

“So he should have just left her to die?”

“Yeah, he should have,” he replied without hesitation. Leaning forward, he continued. “After the invasion, I was in on the clean up, tending those who survived. And let me tell you, even the ones who barely got processed would have been better off dead. Having your humanity stripped away piece by piece, cut up and torn apart, rebuilt into something…” He stopped, looking ill. “Believe me, Gwen, keeping her alive and to find a ‘cure’ was not an act of love.”

Strapped to the bed, the blades coming down, Jack unable to switch the machine off… Gwen felt very cold suddenly. She had been trapped, defenseless and could have easily been— “Can you order me something stronger, please?” she said weakly, pushing her current drink aside.

He looked abashed as he flagged down the waitress. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to take it out on you. Just have some really bad memories of it all.”

“Don’t be. You’re right.” She remembered the metal monsters and the devastation they left. The bodies—too human and barely human at all. “I just, God, I’d forgotten.”

Owen’s hand settled atop hers, a warm, reassuring weight. “You forgot because you had to, Gwen.” The waitress appeared, and he momentarily shifted his attention. “About time. Now we’ll take two of the strongest drinks of the house. And by strong I mean I want it to hit me hard and fast and leave me begging for my mum. Got that?” The girl nodded and disappeared towards the bar.

“When I said strong, I was aiming for numb, not dead, Owen,” Gwen said tartly, feeling more herself.

“You’re no lightweight; I think you’ll manage.” There was an admiring note in his voice as he released her hand and sat back.

Were her cheeks warm? God, if she was blushing, she’d never hear the end of it. But Owen didn’t comment. So, either she wasn’t, or he was being nice. Before she could think on it anymore, the waitress returned with two very dark, very full, large shot glasses. It didn’t look like any one or combination of liquors she’d seen before. Next to those, the waitress placed two pints of lager.

“Don’t care how hard core you think you are, you’ll be wanting those.” And with a sharp spin, she was gone.

Gwen gave Owen a skeptical look. “What did you order?”

“No idea.” He grinned as he grabbed the shot glass. “Not backing down now, are you, Cooper?”

“Never,” she said. Picking up her glass, she saluted him. “Bottom’s up.” And she drank the mysterious concoction in one go, immediately regretting it as the liquid seared a trail down to her stomach where she wasn’t certain it was going to stay. She blindly grabbed for the pint glass and downed about a third before she felt like she might survive. She noticed Owen’s glass was nearly half gone, and he still looked a bit uneasy.

“Fuck me, that sucked,” he said finally.

“Oh, I don’t know, it wasn’t so bad,” she argued lightly.

“Ha! Guess you missed the part where your eyes nearly popped out of your head.”

She smirked, enjoying the warmth that was working its way outward from her gut. “Maybe I didn’t want you to feel like a wuss.”

“Yeah, keep telling yourself that.”

They sat there for the next half hour, talking of nothing and finishing their respective drinks. By the time they headed out to Owen’s car, Gwen was feeling pleasantly buzzed.

“I think that’s just what I needed tonight,” she said as she waited for him to unlock the car.

“You keep forgetting I’m a doctor, don’t you? Know all the best remedies.” The car gave a cheerful beep as it unlocked.

She snorted. “Well, there’s not much alcohol won’t cure.” Getting in, she closed the door and snuggled down into the seat. Yeah, she was feeling really good right now.

“I’m taking that as a sign you want me to drive then?” he said as he ducked his head inside.

“Now wait a second,” she frowned, “earlier when Tosh asked, you went off on a rant about seat adjustment and nonsense.”

“Well, Tosh drives like a maniac. Unless you don’t care about your car, keep her as far away from the driver’s seat as you can.” His eyes traveled down to Gwen’s legs. “And I’m certain I don’t have to worry about any major readjustments if you drive.”

“You seriously want me to drive? This car?” She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Flash cars have never been a super big turn on for me.”

He jangled the keys. “Come on, Gwen, when’s the last time you drove something with this much power?”

It was too tempting to pass up. She crawled over the console and occupied herself with adjusting the seat. “Not fishing for compliments I hope. Because something tells me the car’s going to win out.”

“Cute.” He leaned over her to put the keys in the ignition, just brushing against her before pulling back. “Need instruction, or you think you can manage?”

Gwen familiarized herself with the layout, grateful for the first time in years that she had dated that wannabe racer just out of school. “Oh, I’ll manage.”

Owen shut the door and walked around to the passenger’s side. Buckling himself in, he seemed to consider things. “I’ve never actually seen it from this angle before.”

“Wait, I’m the first person you’re letting drive your fancy, expensive sports car?” She started the car with a smirk. Shifting into gear, she headed out of the parking lot. “You’re trying to impress me, aren’t you?”

“Hardly.” He didn’t meet her gaze.

“You think I don’t know blokes value their cars as much as their cocks?” she said, increasing the speed and enjoying the gentle hum of the engine as it worked. “Dangerous as things get at Torchwood, I’m surprised you don’t keep this locked up at home.”

“And take a cab or bus in? Thanks but no thanks,” he said as if the very thought left a bad taste in his mouth. “Take a left at the next light. There’s a nice stretch of road that you can really open up the engine on.”

She turned and drove for a few minutes until he said, “Gun it.”

“Seriously?”

“There’s no point in driving her if you’re not going to see what she can do.” The challenge in his words was obvious.

Gwen didn’t hesitate, immediately stepping on the gas. “We get pulled over, I’m blaming you.”

He leaned over and whispered in her ear. “Perks of working for a covert organization, darling. Gets you out of just about anything.”

She swallowed hard and focused on the road, trying to ignore the pleasant shiver his voice elicited.

“She’s easier to maneuver if you loosen up a little.” His voice was still too close as his left hand moving over each of her hands in turn, gently urging her to ease her grip.

She’d been plenty loose until Owen started doing whatever it was he was doing, but she wasn’t about to say so and risk him stopping, either. She forced herself to relax, but it wasn’t easy. With his hand still resting over hers, a constant presence, she couldn’t help but think of his hands elsewhere. Groping and squeezing and, God, so knowing in the crypt. And that only led to memories of the night at his place, self-assured as they mapped out her flesh. Such nice hands, just rough enough to know that he used them and wasn’t afraid to use them. Strong hands. Warm hands. Hands that were no longer on hers, making her wonder at their loss until his left alighted on her thigh while his right brushed her hair out of the way to curl around her neck.

“Not big on subtlety, are you?” Gwen commented. She was impressed that she managed to sound mostly unaffected.

“It has a place,” he mused, the fingers of his right hand stroking lightly along the middle of her neck.

“Which isn’t here.” She mentally kicked herself. That should have been a question.

“No.” His voice was so low. She glanced over to see him watching her intently. The hand on her thigh rested there, thumb stroking back and forth imperceptibly.

Gwen decided that he was trying to drive her mad by slow degrees.

“So why did you snog me earlier?” he asked, tone conversational.

She did her damnedest to focus on the road and ignore what his touch was doing to her. Teasing, promising… “That was your doing, remember? Last kiss for a condemned man and all that.” When he didn’t respond, just watched her and kept stroking her leg and neck, she was forced to continue. “What else was I supposed to do? We were stuck in that bloody cabinet built for one. It’s not like there was room to shove you away.”

Owen laughed quietly, his left hand migrating gradually upward. “You were managing to do quite a bit for it being so cramped, Gwen.”

God, he was a right bastard sometimes. If her phone hadn’t rung when it had, there was no telling how far things would have gotten.

The hand moved again, closer to where she so did not desperately want it to go. He continued speaking, voice rough and enticing. “Haven’t been able to get you out of my head. Tried to forget you. But you won’t be gotten rid of.”

She hadn’t been able to forget him either, how he seemed to know every spot to hit and connected to a part of her she hadn’t given thought to in years. The part of her that liked it a bit rough, liked to take control, fight for control…

Her breath caught as he undid the button on the top of her jeans.

“Just say stop, and I will,” Owen said as his fingers settled on the zip.

He expected her to be capable of speech when she could hardly breathe?

He drew the zip slowly down.

The car swerved. Gwen quickly righted it, but didn’t slow. She kept the speed high, determined not to let Owen win at whatever game he was playing. And she wished more than anything that she’d worn something other than the boring white cotton knickers she now wore.

“How far are you going to let me go, Gwen?” Her jeans were completely unfastened and laid open. Owen’s index finger caught at the waistband of her panties, tugging lightly. “All the way? Hm?” The finger slipped past the elastic to trace along the border line of her hair. Gwen shivered. “Think you’ll be able to drive while I get you off?”

The fact that she slouched slightly, edging her hips forward to grant him easier access was something she fully intended to blame on instinct and not intent.

And then he was there, fingers gently parting her lips and skimming over slick, already too sensitive flesh. Around and down and up and back, over and over, a faint, frustrating touch, promising more but denying it.

Gwen bit her tongue. She would not ask for more. She would not beg for release.

“Oh, fuck!” she gasped as one finger finally slipped inside her channel.

“And you didn’t even swerve this time,” he chuckled against her ear, tongue darting out to flick playfully against the lobe. “Such focus. How are you doing it?”

The hell if she knew. If she were smart, she’d pull off the road and let him finish her off before they ended up crashing into the nearest tree. But if she were smart, she wouldn’t be in the car with Owen, wouldn’t have gone out for drinks with him in the first place. This was dangerous and foolish and one of the most exhilarating experiences she’d had in ages. And considering her life at present, that was saying something.

The second finger nearly did her in.

“So close, aren’t you?” His fingers fucked her steadily as his thumb settled against her clit, roving in maddening circles.

God, he was going to kill her.

She tightened her grip on the steering wheel and steadied her foot against the gas. Then she said, “Harder.” It was a command.

“Yes. Sir,” he purred. And he complied.

“Shit,” she breathed as the sensations started to build, tighter and higher and fuck how was she still on the road?

“You’re bloody amazing, Gwen Cooper,” Owen whispered. “Don’t let anyone tell you different.”

She came then with a gasped “Oh, God!” that might have been a prayer. For what, she didn’t know.

Owen’s right hand was on the wheel, steadying the car as Gwen rode out her orgasm.

“Start easing off the gas,” he instructed.

Somehow she managed and was vaguely aware of the car angling off the road. They eventually came to a stop and she collapsed back against the seat with relief, eyes drifting shut as Owen set about switching off the car.

That had to be the daftest thing she had ever done. Or let be done to her. Or both. Fucking hell.

This was trouble. Big trouble. She couldn’t easily excuse this like the first time. Though both times followed something traumatic. Christ, was she going to fuck Owen every time something really bad happened at work? Right, so, they hadn’t fucked this time. Yet. Stop now before things went further, go home to Rhys and try to forget that she slipped up again. What was it about Owen that made her do something like this? Made her want something like this? Because she wanted. More. Now. That made her a horrible person, didn’t it? Horrible because she knew it was wrong and couldn’t find it in herself to stop. But she’d come this far, hadn’t she? If she was going to feel guilty, she might as well go all the way. In for a penny, in for a pound. Going home still keyed up and horny on top of the guilt was the last thing she was going to do to herself.

Decided, Gwen opened her eyes and found Owen watching her, a look of guarded uncertainty on his face.

“You’re a bastard, Owen Harper,” she said, turning in the seat to face him.

“This is news to you?” His voice was neutral, almost distant.

She grabbed him by the lapels of his coat and pulled him forward. “Fuck you, Owen,” she stated. Then she kissed him. It was demanding. It was hard. And it was desperate. She was going to hell, and she was taking Owen down with her.

~*~

 

The woman had an amazing mouth. Soft and punishing and the way she used her tongue… Owen groaned as he kissed Gwen back, tangling his fingers in her hair and pulling her closer. He’d been dying to kiss her again all night. It had been easy over the last few weeks to talk himself into playing the role of the chummy and occasionally aggravating coworker, but he also hadn’t been stuck in any confined spaces with her, either. Distance was a godsend. But with her lying on top of him, curves molding to him just like he remembered, how could he not kiss her? And she hadn’t minded, oh no.

Still, he had never thought things would get to this point tonight. When he’d offered the lift home, he really had only intended to give her a lift home. The drink offer had just been common courtesy. But when she accepted, well, that changed things a bit. Conversation went really well, so well that by the time they were heading out, Owen had decided to push his luck. Letting her drive his car was probably one of the more difficult things he had done, but it had been worth it. He had been able to find out undeniably that his instincts weren’t wrong. Gwen was interested. The further he tried to get with her, the further she let him go. He was still a little shocked that she’d let him get her off while driving. Shocked, but also extremely impressed.

Now her hands were locked on either side of his head, holding him in place to pull him back. Her dark eyes were wide and searching as they locked onto his.

“Do you want me?” she asked breathlessly.

Was the woman daft? “I think we’ve established that.” He smirked.

“Do you need me?” There was an odd note in her voice that gave him pause. She was dead serious and not playing a game at the moment. Or maybe she was and was really good at hiding it. Still, it was a strange question the way she said it. Especially with want and need being so very close at the moment.

“Yeah, I do,” he said finally and meant it. He just wished he’d managed to sound a lot less like he did. It was going to blow up in his face, of that he was certain.

“Shit.” She shook her head, then released him, moving back to her side of the car and switching it on. The car was in gear, turned around and heading back to the city before Owen could make sense of what was going on.

It didn’t look like he had to worry about things blowing up in his face; they already had.

“Gwen, what—”

“Don’t say another word,” she commanded, not looking at him.

Something made him hold his tongue. He couldn’t tell if he’d pissed her off or what. But he had an idea that he wouldn’t get an answer until she wanted to give him one. So he didn’t say a word, just sat there with a raging hard-on in the increasingly oppressive silence and waited to find out what Gwen was on about.

Fifteen minutes later, they arrived at his flat. Gwen was out of the car and halfway up the walkway before Owen realized what was going on. She had just managed to figure out his keys and was unlocking the door by the time he caught up to her. He was beginning to wonder if Ianto’s cybergirl had knocked him out harder than he thought; maybe he was still unconscious and this was all a bizarre dream. It was definitely feeling like it.

Owen had barely entered his flat and shut the door behind him when he found himself pinned up against it by Gwen. It wasn’t the choke hold she’d first used on him, but it was damn close.

“Fucking hell, Gwen! What’s going on with you?”

“I love Rhys very much,” she said evenly. There was something downright frightening about the woman right now. He was starting to think that maybe he should have spent a bit more time on that psych eval.

“That’s lovely, sweetheart,” he said, feigning casualness, “but what has that got to do with anything at the moment?”

“You.” It was very close to a growl. “It was supposed to be a one-time thing. That was it. But you won’t leave me alone. I can’t stop thinking about you, about what we did.”

She’d given a hell of a performance to the contrary. Good to know he wasn’t alone, at least.

“Do you want me to be sorry about that?” Owen scoffed. “Because, newsflash, that’s not going to happen.”

She leaned all her weight again him, bringing her body flush against his. “I want you out of my head, Owen. I want to forget how goddamn good it is when I’m with you, how you seem to know on the first go just what will make me weak. I want you to stop giving me exactly what I didn’t know I needed.”

And then she was kissing him, leaving him no opportunity to reply. There were worse ways to be shut up than by a hot little mouth and supple curves. Small hands worked under his t-shirt, skimming across his sides and stomach before settling at the waistband of his jeans. Button and zip were open and Gwen’s hand was past his boxer-briefs and wrapped around his cock before Owen had a chance to react.

Her lips were suddenly against his ear as her hand moved along his shaft in sure, steady strokes. “So, Owen, why did you really snog me in the cabinet?”

No point in denying it, was there? “Been wanting to since you got back from that sodding trip to Italy.” He focused on the ceiling. “Longest goddamned week.”

“You’re not the jealous sort, are you?” Her wrist twisted just a bit, changing the friction along his cock.

“Christ, no,” he groaned. Not much anyway.

“Good, because you have no right to be.” And with that, she stepped back and dropped to her knees. A moment later, his prick was disappearing into the luscious confines of her mouth. Molten, slick heat surrounded him as her tongue mapped and teased with ruthless efficiency. When she pulled back, cheeks hollowed tight, Owen’s head banged back against the door. Fuck. Who’d ever taught her how to give head deserved a bloody medal. The barest hint of teeth mixed with those full lips and that wicked tongue… She had him on the edge in moments.

He tried to draw together enough higher brain function to warn her. “Gwen, love, you might want to ease off or…”

Those large, dark eyes looked up at him, a devilish glint dancing in them. She shook her head very slightly and redoubled her efforts. Her right hand moved around to his lower back and followed the curve of his ass down and in, fingertips teasing along the crack, slipping in to circle—

Owen came hard and sudden, thankful that the door was there to support him as Gwen finished him off.

“Fuck. Me,” he breathed at last, peering down at her.

Gwen smirked at him. “I suppose that’s a compliment, then?”

He chuckled. “I think you know the answer to that.

She shrugged as she got to her feet. “A girl never knows.”

The way she said it, the girl most definitely knew.

He reached for her, curling his hand around the back of her head and bringing her mouth to his. There was no resistance as her lips parted, letting him inside to taste the faint, slightly bitter saltiness of his come underlain by the earthy remnants of the ale from the pub and hints of the spicy sweet flavor he had come to associate with her.

He coasted his hand from her head down to her back, settling at her waist. He held her, pulled her closer, reveling in the friction of her denim against his bare cock. Slipping beneath her shirt, he ran his fingers lightly across her stomach, which trembled faintly at his touch. Up he moved, tracing the curves of her waist to her ribs, mapping out each one he encountered until the band of her bra hindered his movement. But the obstacle was only temporary as he quickly undid the catch, letting her breasts spill free. Gwen gasped as he tweaked one of her nipples, quickly soothing with a worshipful caress.

“You have the most gorgeous breasts,” he murmured as he forsook her mouth to lavish attention on the delicate skin of her neck.

She shoved his jacket over his shoulders and off. “I’ve never had any complaints.”

Owen smiled against the pulse point he’d located, then ran the flat of his tongue over it. It elicited a sharp intake of breath from her; he filed it away for future reference because he was certain now that there was a future. One time could easily be brushed aside. But twice? No, this wasn’t going to be the last time Gwen Cooper was in his bed.

He lifted her shirt off along with her bra and couldn’t help but smile in appreciation. Weeks of fantasizing from memory really did no justice to the reality. Unfortunately, before he could undress her the rest of the way, Gwen’s blasted mobile rang. Either her boyfriend was psychic or he just had a knack for calling at the worst possible moment.

Gwen gave Owen an apologetic look as she fished the mobile out of her back pocket. The look immediately turned into one of confusion as she spied the number. “Jack? What’s going on?”

Owen felt his eyebrows race towards his hairline. What in the hell did Jack want?

“Still a bit shaken, but, yeah, I’m fine. Nothing a good night’s sleep won’t fix. What’s that?” She turned away, pressing the phone to her ear. “No, got a lift from Owen. Didn’t feel like risking my life anymore tonight with a cab.” There was a pause and then, “You’re a fine one to talk.”

Bleeding Christ, where they going to yap all night? And since when did Jack call any of them after hours unless something was going down? Owen pulled his pants up; somehow it didn’t seem right to be standing there bare arsed and with his cock as free as you please when the boss was on the phone.

“I appreciate the call, Jack, thanks. Uh huh. I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that she disconnected. “Well, that was weird,” she laughed disbelievingly as she faced Owen again.

“What, our illustrious leader doesn’t call to check on you every night?” Well, that came out slightly more bitter than he’d intended.

“No, that’s got to be a first.” Her brows drew together as she stared at the phone. “I just can’t figure him out.”

“Jack’s a mystery wrapped in a bloody enigma. That’s about all there is to get about Jack.” He held out his hand, gesturing to her mobile. “Can I see that for a tic?”

“Sure,” she said skeptically, giving it over.

He powered the phone off and dropped it lightly onto Gwen’s jacket and shirt.

“Now what did you do that for?” she asked, bending to retrieve it.

Catching her arm, Owen pulled her upright and flush against himself. “Don’t know about you, but I’m not much in the mood for another untimely interruption by your mobile this evening.”

Her smiled surprised him. “It has been rather inconvenient, hasn’t it?”

“That is the understatement of the millennium,” he said dryly as he reached up to brush her hair out of her face. The thought flitted through his head that he didn’t deserve this, whatever this was. He pushed the thought aside and kissed Gwen, losing himself in the taste and feel of her once more.

She squeaked when he lifted her up into his arms and started for the bedroom. “Owen!”

“Believe it or not, when I’m at my apartment, I actually like to be inside my apartment. Not sure as you noticed or not, but there’s nothing that spectacular about the entryway.”

Gwen snorted. “Didn’t seem to bother you a few minutes ago.”

“There wasn’t anything bothering me a few minutes ago.” He set her back on her feet.

“Oh, you were bothered alright,” she smirked, kicking off her shoes before working on removing her pants.

Following her lead, Owen did the same, slipping off his shirt as well. He was already more than half-hard again. Looked like some good had come from Jack’s call after all.

“Come here.” Gwen pulled him forward until he came to rest against her, all softness and warmth welcoming him. She ran her fingertips lightly along his neck. “How about you drive this time?”

Couldn’t very well argue with that. He kissed her then, walking her back and slowly easing her down onto the bed. Before he could even think of it, she was reaching over to riffle through the bed-stand drawer.

“Something tells me that you’ve got a mind like a steel trap,” he said, taking the condom from her and quickly freeing it from the foil wrapper.

“There’s not much you can get past me. Well, unless Jack slips one of his retroactive amnesia concoctions into my drink again.” She grimaced.

“That’s just a one trick pony,” Owen said, nudging her legs apart. “If you manage to beat it once, you’re pretty much golden. It’s Jack’s recruitment test. Or one of them.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Her right leg wrapped around him, opening her up as he moved into position.

Shop talk during sex, was there anything more thrilling? Actually, though, he didn’t much mind.

“Everything would have stayed forgotten if you’d wanted it to,” he said as he thrust home, enjoying the plush, welcoming give of her pussy. He dropped his head down to whisper in her ear, “But you wanted to remember. Needed there to be more to this life than the daily drudgery you were used to.”

Her hips arched up, letting him move deeper. “I was perfectly content with my life before I met you lot.”

“Interesting that you didn’t say you were happy,” he chuckled, withdrawing slightly before burying himself again. “And you were only content because you didn’t know any better.”

She dug her fingers into his back, urging him on. “So ignorance is bliss?”

Owen rose up to look down at her. “Bliss is overrated. Besides,” he dipped his head down and kissed her lightly, “having your eyes opened may hurt like a son of a bitch, but there are things that more than make up for it.”

Gwen watched him with those eyes of hers, so wide, seeming to take it all in. After a moment, she pulled him down and kissed him hard, forestalling further conversation. Which was fine by him. Talking generally got him into trouble as it was. There were better uses for his mouth right now, anyway. Such as finding that one spot on her neck again that made her gasp, or the spot below her ear that earned him a particularly needy “Owen.”

Much better than deep conversation any day.


End file.
